


I'll be your silver lining

by Mis_Shapes



Series: Christmas Bits & Pieces [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Broken Bones, First-Foot, Fluff, Gendry is clumsy, M/M, New Years Eve, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 18:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13172670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mis_Shapes/pseuds/Mis_Shapes
Summary: When Gendry appears with Arya to perform the traditional first-footing at the New Year, Robb and Theon and there new house aren't the only ones to gain a little luck while Gendry is stuck with the bad.





	I'll be your silver lining

**Author's Note:**

> I know - another Jondry New Year but you know... 
> 
> The first-footing is a tradition usually done in Northern England and Scotland (I think), but has regional variations.
> 
> I'm planning for this to be the last of the fluff for a while!

“Go on, Snow, get outside, it’s almost midnight.”

The blaring music was almost too loud for either of them to hear each other.

“If you care then you do it, I’m not interested in superstitious nonsense,” Jon claimed, tucking some hair behind his ear.

Theon cocked a brow at him and stares as though waiting for him to crumble under the pressure of this ridiculous statement. Starks were nothing if not superstitious beings and though he didn’t share their name they shared both blood and upbringing. Their Nan was the type that had kept traditions, tales such as those of boggarts, and suspicions alive. Theon remembered being utterly confused at her insistence he broke to the bottom of the eggshell after eating an egg the first time.

“You’re just as bad, if not worse, don’t deny it.”

“Can you see my family doing that shit?”

“I mean… you Greyjoys are a bit of an enigma… it’s a toss-up. Are you too cynical or are you too full of the crazies?”

The suggestion earnt him a cuff around the ear.

“Oi! Could you knock it off?” Robb called, heading their way.

Robb would have done the first-footing, the New Year tradition, himself, of course, if not for his lack of dark-hair, and his, most unlucky in these matters, red curls. He’d had to nag one of them to do it every year since their father’s death, an event he had once dug up to emotionally blackmail Theon.

“Fine, I’ll do it… at least I have the necessary height,” Theon taunted Jon, smirking and winking at him.

“No need,” Robb smiled, slipping a hand round Theon’s waist before failing to resist the temptation and letting it fall to squeeze his bum, and planting a kiss onto his cheek, “thank you though. I appreciate the offer.”

Jon and Theon watched him, baffled, as he strode on towards the door.

“Have we been replaced?” Jon asked suspiciously.

“I think that might be the only option… unless you think Robb might have a sudden dislike for tradition.” A prospect that seemed almost impossible.

Having passed round filled plastic champagne flutes to their guests, they stood by each other as the clock struck midnight. Spotting a mischievous look in Theon’s eyes and the small movement towards him, Jon flinched and took a step back.

Theon sniggered at Jon’s fear and let off a party popper, directed at his head, with a loud pop.

“Happy New Year, Snow!”

Jon’s chest heaved heavily as he sighed, pulling streamers from his hair, exasperated with Theon, lips pursed, while meanwhile a cheer erupted to the three knocks at the door.

Curious, as no one and gone outside as far as they could tell, they looked between each other and the door to the living room.

“A Happy New Year and Good Tidings to you and yours!” The unfamiliar voice that spoke the traditional greeting was loud and confident in some respects but hesitated a little on the wording, someone who wasn’t familiar with them.

Arya’s hand peeked up over the hoards of people packed into Robb and Theon’s relatively small new house. It waved back and forwards as she shouted and got up onto her tip toes in attempt to see over heads.

“Jon! JON!” She shouted as she was hoisted up, head poking over.

“I’m here!” He laughed as Theon left to sing Auld Lang Syne on the insistence of Robb,

She wrapped her arms around his neck excitedly when she finally pushed her way through, strangling him a little as she dangled her weight off him.

“Get off! You limpet,” he told her while setting his beer bottle down onto the side table to embrace her all the same. “I missed you, how are things?”

“Ah, you know, same old.”

Jon’s eyes flicked to glance over her shoulder to meet those of who he assumed had been the one to pick up Arya and also the one to do the first-foot through the door, well-built though he didn’t suppose he needed to be considering the miniscule nature of his feisty sister and of course, dark haired.

“This is Gendry,” she informed him as he let her slip to the floor.

“Hey,” Gendry smiled warmly, dumping the contents of his arms onto the table to give a small wave; a lump of coal to bring warms, bread and salt for food and flavour, a small silver coin that was used every year for prosperity, and whiskey for good cheer.

“Hi,” he muttered distractedly, ignoring Arya looking between them, “I’m Jon… “

“Yeah, I know,” laughed Gendry as though it were obvious. His clear blue eyes sparkled with the mischief. So, this was their replacement. Jon wondered whether he was aware of the game Arya was playing. This was the third time since Ygritte she'd tried to set him up.

Arya cleared her throat, “uh, Jon, I’m going to go find the new home owners and give them their card and whatnot. Would you sort Gendry out with a drink?” She turned to walk away without waiting for the answer, “thanks!”

“I’m fi-,” Gendry began in protest.

“What can I get you? I’m fairly sure there’s everything you could possibly imagine.”

“A beers fine, mate.”

“Come on, you can do better than that, don’t hold back.”

“I… honestly… I wasn’t planning to,” he smirked, picking up Jon’s bottle and taking a sip, his lips lingering around the top.

“A cocktail?”

“What are you offering?”

“Margarita?”

Gendry wrinkled his nose, “I don’t do tequila…. I suppose I should be drinking this Whiskey,” he waved the bottle around, “that’s what Arya tells me anyway.”

Jon’s lips quirked into a small smile as he crouched down to retrieve the blender from the cupboard, feeling the presence of another beside him, “I have an idea, they’re our sister Sansa’s favourite, a festive special – cranberry daiquiris.”

“Add cranberries and its festive?” Laughed Gendry.

“Going all out, are we, Snow?”

“Shut up. Here, take this,” he said, holding it out to Theon.

“Bossy much?” Theon smirked as he set the blender down onto the countertop, and winked at Gendry as he headed off after giving Jon’s head a quick ruffle.

“I thought you were… I mean, I assumed you were... Arya seemed like, well, you know.”

“Huh?” Jon frowned in confusion.

“You and him… you aren’t…?”

“God! No!”

“You bicker like an old married couple.”

Jon sighed as he retrieved ice from the freezer but declined to comment.

“That’s Theon,” Arya piped up as she sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, “it’s his house your in.”

“Ah! Shit sorry-,” he directed at Jon, “your brother?”

Arya chuckled softly, enjoying Gendry’s perplexed face, “his partner.”

“In crime!” Declared Robb from behind them, forming a mask with his hands.

“Your such an idiot,” Arya told him, poking him in the stomach and making him double a little as he flinched, his hands not close enough to defend him.

“Oi! Get off my podge.”

“I love your podge.” Reappearing from nowhere, Theon’s arms slunk around Robb, his hands migrating under his shirt as Robb’s hand reached out to Gendry. His smile is aimed at him but the edge to it was for Theon. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’m Robb,” He ignored Theon for the time being, “brother to these two.”

Gendry swallowed, taking the hand, a little perturbed by the way Robb’s eyes closed momentarily at the sensation of Theon’s lips on his neck. “Gendry. Arya brought me.”

Theon smirked, eyes travelling between him, Jon, and Arya.

Jon cleared his throat, “uh, Gendry,” he began, allowing him the opportunity to escape the pair of them, “would you try and dig out the lid to the blender from the cupboard, it seems to have become detached.”

The four of them waited patiently for him to turn his attention before starting up the silent conversation between them. A mixture of gesticulations mixed with some particularly lewd gestures from Theon – earning him an elbow from Robb on behalf of his younger sister and a customary scowl from Jon. They were unfortunately not quick enough to spot Gendry re-emerging and clocking onto the nature of the actions and mouthing.

“Shit!” He shouted as his head hit the roof of the cupboard, followed by the fall of the cast iron pan from his hand falling onto his foot, “shit, shit, fuck. Fuck!”

Robb struggled with how to react, a mixture of concern and wanting to appreciate the comedic value of the spectacle while Arya and Theon struggled to contain sniggers.

“Are you alright?” Jon asked, between anxious and a little impatient, like someone might be with a child who hurts themselves by there own stupidity, as though he might suddenly say, _‘look what you’re doing next time,’_ but when he notices the grimaces of repressed faces of agony his tone changes. “Do you think you can walk? Let’s get you into one of the quieter rooms.”

Theon laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, followed by a shared look with Robb. Robb looking the to floor to hide his amusement.

“Fuck off, Greyjoy,” He snapped.

“You’ve got such a fiery temper on you for someone with Snow for a surname.”

Having made it to the small downstairs bathroom, Gendry peeled off his sock revealing a nasty looking swell that was already turning purple all over the top of his foot.

“Ouch!” Jon winced, crouching down and wrapping a hand towel around the ice to press against the foot.

“Pass it to me, I’m fine.” Their fingers brushed momentarily, a shared look between then broken by Jon clearing his throat.

“I think we should get you to A&E.”

“I’m not going to A&E on New Year’s Eve, I’ll be waiting all night and it’ll be crammed with drunks.”

“If you need to, you need to.”

“I don’t need to, and it can wait until morning.”

“Having fun in there?” Called Theon through the door.

Jon rolled his eyes, looking up at Gendry apologetic only to find a hint of a smirk as he turned the ice to get comfortable.

“Unfortunately, not quite in enough physical shape for what I had in mind,” Gendry replied, eyes on Jon who stilled and raised a brow, fighting the pinkening of his cheeks.

Theon laughed appreciatively outside the door, “I’m sure you could improvise.”

“Sorry,” Jon murmured, standing up and reaching for his phone to call a taxi.

“I’m used to it… and I imagine you are too. I wouldn’t want him to do it endlessly whenever I’m around… he’ll get bored this way.”

_Whenever he’s around?_

“I wouldn’t be so sure, he’s a stubborn git.”

The waiting room was indeed very busy. By the time they’d made it through triage and x-ray it was no surprise the foot was broken, and the clinic was already running to get a cast put on, but it had given them plenty of time to discover a lot about each other’s lives. Jon smiled as he watched Gendry staring down at the nurse applying the soggy bandages, unnerved by the sensation.

Once he had finished and left them in the cubicle with the curtains pulled shut waiting for it to dry, Gendry motioned for Jon to shuffle close on the chair and reached over to slowly and carefully remove something from his curls, deliberately making eye contact as he did so.

When Jon saw they were streamers from the party popper aimed at him hours ago he frowned, embarrassedly asking, “you only just saw them?

“No,” He admitted, “I was waiting for the right moment.”

“The right moment?”

“For this,” he smiled and lent in for a kiss, soft and tender with the hand light against Jon’s head.

Shifting back away, as though to allow Jon to consider what had happened, and leaving him a little shocked, he pulled out his phone to ring Hot Pie for a lift, but became distracted watching Jon working some sort of design onto the cast now it was touch dry with a marker pen. A hand rested by his knee, a little too close to inner thigh for comfort.

“What is it? I can’t believe this is the first impression you have of me.”

“Oh, just a doodle,” he responded, keeping his eyes on the drawing while the hand suddenly stroked his knee reassuringly. Unaware of the impact of the physical contact. “This doesn’t hurt does it?”

“No… not at all.” Captivated by the way Jon’s hands worked.

When Hot Pie eventually arrived, teasing him in a way good friends do about each other’s clumsy misfortune, they introduced each other, and after a rather awkward couple of minutes of not quite knowing how to say goodbye, Jon excused himself.

“Call me,” Jon told him as he poked his head back around the corner of the cubicles, finally working up the courage.

“Wait! How?” Gendry asked, but as he did so he noticed the numbers disguised as abstract shapes across his foot. He would certainly no be forgetting to call or about the night for some time.


End file.
